


Den of Mongrels

by psychae



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Club music, Conversations, Devious intent, Disorders, Doctor/Companion Friendship, Doctor/Patient, Dogs, Dom/sub, Drug Use, Empathy, Furniture, Hannibal Lecter - Freeform, Hannigram - Freeform, Hippocratic Oath, M/M, Medication, Memory Loss, Memory gaps, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Sexy Suit Wearing, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepiness, Sleepwalking, Trust Issues, Unconventional, Will Graham - Freeform, Xanax, club, prescription, psychiatry, sneaky, time loss, treatment, trickery, unconventional work relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:36:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychae/pseuds/psychae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Problem-riddled Will Graham habitually seeks out Hannibal Lecter's aid after an episode of lost time. Their unconventional relationship gives great leeway for the psychiatrist to do as he wishes, and Will unconsciously (fairly literally) plays right into his convoluted plots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Den of Mongrels

**Author's Note:**

> I must dedicate this story in it's entirety to my fellow fiction-writer who granted me inspiration for the plot.  
> It was more her own idea than mine and I am grateful to have had her as my muse. I thank you for planting such enticingly delectable and disgusting Hannigram into my head. 
> 
> To all readers, go ahead, dig in if you so please. Bon Appétit.

“Will?”  
  
The man’s brow furrowed upon hearing the familiar voice. Darkness cleared from around his line of vision as he realized he was in his therapist’s Baltimore office.  
  
He was trembling. The fog began to clear and his pupils came into focus with his surroundings. Will looked around frantically and grasped that he was sitting down on one of the couches in the waiting room. He saw the tall form of the man who spoke leaning from the doorframe of his office, staring curiously out at him.  
  
“D… Doctor Lecter.” He swallowed anxiously.  
  
“Will, we don’t have an appointment scheduled for today.” Hannibal stepped forward, “ Are you alright?”  
  
Will cleared his throat, his lips began to say, ‘no’, but he just shook his head.  
  
Hannibal furrowed his brow and stepped closer to him. “Have you lost time again?”  
  
Will nodded shakily, bringing his palms to his temples and pressing down, trying to stop his trembling head and hands. His fingers trailed down his cheeks and over the prickly scruff on his chin before looking up at the doctor from behind his glasses with confused, blue eyes.  
  
“Your name is Will Graham,” Hannibal started, pulling back his sleeve and reading his watch face, “It is 2:45 p.m. and you are in Baltimore, Maryland.” He straightened his cuff out and dropped his arm to his side. “Can you recount what you were doing before you found yourself here?”  
  
Will shook his head again, standing up. He felt so small under Doctor Lecter’s collected gaze in such an erratic state and didn’t want to stay seated.  
  
“I- I was talking to Jack Crawford in his office one minute and then… then it’s all hazy until I _seemingly_ opened my eyes to find myself here.”  
  
“You can’t recall driving here?”  
  
“I can’t even remember leaving Jack’s office.” Will flailed his hands out, gesturing leaving somewhere and turning back to face the couch. He often did things like this when he was nervous. Exaggerated movements to mask the involuntary tremors that rattled his being.  
  
“Well I’m glad you did. Will,” He felt Hannibal’s hand rest on his left shoulder. He jumped slightly at the touch and pulled away. Trust issues.  
  
“Hm?” he turned to face Dr. Lecter whose eyes were serious and firm. “You have me as your gauge, I am trying to help you.”  
Will raised his eyebrows in a seeking manner, eyes flickering back and forth between Hannibal’s comforting stare. He looked down and nodded lightly, pinching the bridge of his nose and disrupting his glasses’ resting place. He felt a little better. Still shaken, but better.  
  
“Come,” Hannibal put his hand on Will’s shoulder again and led him to the office’s entryway. “Luckily I have a cancelled appointment and am free for a while.”  
  
Will plopped onto one of the leather seats in the center of the high-ceilinged room. He pulled off his black frames and set them on the glass table to his right and proceeded to rub his eyes in a self-soothing manner.  
  
“You should try to relax, Will. Your stress level is unhealthily high. Do you think your meeting with Jack is what caused this?” Hannibal walked to his desk and looked at something.  
  
“I’m really not sure anymore, doctor.” Will stared up at the book-lined walls pensively. He was thinking too much for someone who regularly loses control of his mind. That scared him, so he thought more about it, which was helpless and only frightened him further.  
  
Hannibal pulled out a small slip of paper and scratched something on it with a black pen. He picked it off the desk and brought it over to Will.  
  
“I’m prescribing you an anti-anxiety medication.” The paper made a sharp fluttering noise as it was presented to him. Will’s head inclined as he looked at the hand with the slip in it and his mouth curled into tight-lipped amusement.  
  
“An _anti-anxiety medication,_ doctor?” He emphasized his words in the sardonic manner he was sometimes acclimated to. His tongue poured icy retorts at any attempt others made to help him. He had always been very independent and self-sufficient.  
  
“Yes. I believe it would do you much good.” Hannibal replied matter-of-factly as he walked over to a dresser.  
  
Will read the prescription he was handed. “’ _Xanax, two milligrams, to be taken as needed.’”_ He read aloud the inked words Doctor Lecter had etched onto the page.  
  
“Yes,” Hannibal said again as he walked back to Will, an orange bottle rattling in his hand. “Here,” He held the bottle to Will whose hand still held the piece of paper.  
  
“You wrote me a prescription only to give it to me yourself?” Will chuckled.  
  
“A force of habit, I’m afraid.” Will set the paper down next to his glasses and reached for the white-capped bottle, eyeing it interestedly.  
  
Hannibal continued, “If not to keep for my records, to reiterate its usefulness to you. A reminder.”  
  
“You _honestly_ think that anti-anxiety medication will help me?”  
  
“I believe it could, yes. It helps many patients suffering from anxiety disorders and nervous episodes like your own.”  
  
“You think I have an anxiety disorder?” Will turned the bottle around in his fingers.  
  
“No. Though you have many of the symptoms seen in those with panic disorder I cannot state with conviction that I believe you suffer from one. You have an empathy disorder, Will, and that- coupled with the line of work you do- can be very stressful. I simply think you would benefit from some relaxation.”  
  
Will looked up at him, “I don’t have time to be _relaxing_ , doctor Lecter, Jack Crawford will make sure of that.”  
  
Hannibal leaned to pick up the paper on the glass table next to him, “If you plan on continuing under this amount of pressure I highly recommend you use this medication. I care about you, Will, I consider you my friend and I want to help you.” He walked back to his desk and put the slip into a drawer.  
  
Will watched him and then looked back at the pill-filled bottle. Maybe he was right. Maybe he needed something stronger than the aspirin he chugged futilely at every migraine and at each gap in his history.  
  
“I am sorry, but my next appointment will be here shortly and I must ask you to leave, but I highly recommend that you consider my advice.” Doctor Lecter approached Will and he stood up to meet him. He placed his glasses gingerly over his ears.  
  
“If you insist, doctor.” He lifted the bottle and smiled sarcastically before pocketing the pills.  
  
Hannibal smiled back at him. “And insist I must.”

* * *

 

Will was grateful he made it back to Wolf Trap unimpeded by any time loss or hallucinations. He was greeted warmly by his slew of canines. They always made him feel safe. He was glad to be home and without obligation. He spent the remainder of his evening walking with his dogs and tying lures.     
  
His phone started to ring. He looked up from the magnifying glass as one of the dogs barked at the noise. He quickly tied the knot he was working on and got up to answer it.  
  
 _Jack._ He paused before answering. “Hello, Jack.”  
  
“Will, I just wanted to ask if you could come in tomorrow morning. We’re still working on this case and I could use a little more of your help.”  
  
“Yeah, sure.” He had no idea what case the man was referring to. “Which case are we working on, again?”  
  
“The one we talked about earlier, during our meeting.”  
  
 _Oh yeah, the triple homicide._  
  
“Sorry about that, Jack, I think I was just tired earlier.” Will explained.  
  
“Why are you apologizing, it was fine. I just wanted to go over some things with you. You didn’t seem tired to me, _helpful-_ That’s what you were.” Jack said all too happily.  
  
“A- Oh. Yeah. All right. What time do you want to see me?”  
  
After the call with Jack ended, Will felt anxious. He paced around for a while before trying to finish his lure, but was too distracted and found that he was shaking again. The thread trembled under his fingers and he gave up trying. He soon found himself in a staring contest with the bottle of white, rectangular pills. He stood in his kitchen staring at the bottle on the counter before him.  
  
 _To be taken as needed._ __  
  
He opened the lid and plucked one thin white tablet out. He may as well see if it helped at all. If Hannibal recommended it, what was the harm in at least _trying?_  
  
Placing it on the back of his tongue he quickly realized how bitter the thing was. He cupped his hands under the faucet and downed the pill quickly, dipping his hands beneath the running water again and drinking the bitter residue away.   
  
 _Now to wait and see._  
  
Will sat on the floor with his dogs and patted the black and white one in an attempt to quell his trembling hands. The light through the windows was bright orange, the sky in flames as the sun sank below the horizon. The vivid light began to dull into a cooler hue and shadows ran across the length of the floor and over Will and his dogs.  
  
He wasn’t trembling anymore. It was a slow feeling, like time was stretched out and his mind started to quiet itself.  Hannibal was right- this was relaxing.  
  
He yawned widely, becoming very tired. The dogs around him were all curled into a sleepy pile. One kicked and whimpered in its sleep, which made Will grin. He stretched and stood up, thinking he would actually get a good night’s rest for once.  
  
Will almost immediately drifted off. The warm covers and muffled thoughts lulled him into an uncommon feeling of security. His heartbeat slowed and his respiration deepened.  
  
 _Thud-dum, thud-dum, thud… dum…. thud… dum…_  
  
Will’s eyes fluttered.  
  
 _Thud-tss, thud-tss, thud-tss, thud-tss, thud-tss, thud-tss, thud…_  
  
Is that my heart? He wondered.  
  
He opened his bleary, tired eyes. The light was dim and slightly blue-tinted; it was hard for him to focus. The Xanax clouded his head and his vision. The dull blue light brightened, but not much, as he honed in on his surroundings.  
  
Unfamiliar surroundings.  
  
He was in a dimly lit, circular room. The sound of deep bass and high hat thrummed dully from what seemed like everywhere.  
  
 _Where am I?_  
  
He realized he was standing. He was in the middle of the room. A plush chair was seated several feet in front of him, near what he supposed was the back of the room. It was large with deep crimson and soft-looking fabric covering it, held by black, leather trim.  
  
A curtain next to him fluttered and he looked over to see a hand pushing it to the side. It was too damn hard to see. His corneas were coated in a viscous substance and he squinted, trying to make out the figure entering. His mind working slowly, the thud of the music still droning from everywhere.  
  
Something familiar.  
  
Doctor Lecter walked in, the curtain fluttering behind him. He went to stand in front of the large chair and stopped, clasping his hands.  
  
“Hello Will.” He grinned maliciously.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed reading I would love to hear your feedback. Let me know if you want another chapter, dear Fannibals!


End file.
